Broken
by Miami Blackheart
Summary: Communicating what they really felt inside had never been their strongest point. And it's only worsened after the incident. Set around and post-3x08. Two-shot.
1. Part I: Michael

_Disclaimer: No, I don't own Nikita. *sniffles*_

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**Guess everyone needs a Mikita hug, huh?**

**These past episodes have been pretty intense. Ohh Michael… My heart bleeds.**

**Okay, so because of all the emotional stuff in 3x08, it inspired me to write a two-shot based on that. I'm such a sucker for those things. Haha. Sorry. But it seems a lot of people have written about it too. Cool. Might as well join in. ;D**

**The first part will cover Michael's side, and the second part will be Nikita's. It's mostly drabble… I think. Just some thoughts surrounding the events in that last episode. They're still both into the early parts of the grieving process, especially Michael, so there's some bitterness and resentment ahead.  
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**Oh, and it's angst so don't expect any happy endings. Okay?**

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**Broken**

Part I: Michael

Denial.

For the past three weeks he kept on telling himself that everything was going to be alright. Just a little time was needed to recover and he'd be back in the field like he used to. He'd be able to fight and defend for what he believed in. Continue this battle of right against wrong.

But deep down, he knew it would never be the same again.

He just didn't acknowledge it. Nor think about it. Nor talk about it. He didn't _want_ to.

Because by doing so would only make things too real, too permanent.

And he couldn't accept that. Not yet.

So he acted as if nothing happened. He was just wounded like any other soldier in combat. He would recuperate then he would be fine.

But he was lying to no one except himself.

That moment when that rogue cleaner managed to get away in Mexico because he couldn't hold a gun properly, it was like a harsh douse of reality. He had let a killer escape. And it was all his fault. But he was lucky that they were able to put Liam down in the end though. He didn't think his conscience would ever let him live knowing that more innocent people could have been killed had the agent fully escaped their grasp.

But it still didn't erase the horrifying fact of the possibility that his… disadvantage had almost cost them the mission. Or Nikita (he didn't even want to think about what went through his mind when he saw her and Liam hold each other at gunpoint). Either way, it was a cruel illustration of what he couldn't do anymore, what ability he had lost.

He couldn't even shoot straight.

And to think that he was one of Division's finest marksmen. Or at least, used to be before… the incident. Now he realized he couldn't even hit a stationary target to save his own goddamned life. Much less to protect the people he cared about.

And what did that make him?

A burden. To everyone.

He was so ashamed of himself.

He had never been so frustrated with his self in his entire life.

It was too much.

The stress, the anger, the pain... Physically, emotionally, and psychologically…

It was all too much to take in.

But he had to. There was no other choice.

He had to deal with it. Somehow. In his own way.

But then Nikita kept on trying to get him to talk about it, her natural compulsion to help those in trouble coming to the surface.

After that night, he had been doing his utmost effort to keep things civil around her. Explaining what he could, offering half-meant smiles, and half-baked lies. Anything that would placate her, get her off his case even for just a few hours. But he knew it would just hurt her more knowing that he was lying to her. He could even see it in her eyes that she didn't believe a word he said. And it just _hurt_.So he deemed that it was for the best to just avoid her altogether, stay in Medical rather than their home, gripe at Birkhoff instead of her, sleep alone in his old room in Division than sleep with her.

It was necessary. For him. For both of them.

But she was stubborn. Always has, and always will be. Only this time, it wasn't going to help. It _did not_ help.

She kept on pressing, pressuring him to open up. As if he wasn't pressured enough.

And then it went too far. It was all too much again. It was just too much to contain. His emotions boiled over and slipped out the cracks on the walls he had masked himself in. A momentary lapse of control and he managed to do the one thing he had been trying so hard not to do around Nikita:

He snapped. At _her_. He took a part of his anger out on her. Lashed out. Told her that _she'd helped enough_.

His own words still rang in his ears, echoing the severity of his tone, amplifying the meaning behind his remark. Even if it wasn't the right implication. The moment he said those things, he realized what he had done.

He saw the hurt that appeared in Nikita's face. The suffering and culpability in her eyes.

But it was too late. He couldn't take it back.

That was why he didn't want her help.

He didn't want to see the hurt, the suffering, the guilt, and the pity every time she looked at him. Not from her. Anyone but her. He already had enough of those looks from other people after what happened. The curious glances behind his back, the sympathy that he didn't want, and the judgment he most certainly didn't need.

It was almost enough to break him down.

But he didn't. He braved through it. Because of her.

Because he didn't want her to see him weak.

This was his problem. His responsibility.

He was in this alone. He had to face it that way.

And he sure as hell did not want her to suffer along with him. He didn't need her to. One was enough. He would only set her back, detract her concentration and focus. Especially now when there were other more important things going on around them – Amanda, rogue agents, operating Division under the radar.

Nikita was better off held at arms' length. Shut out from him. She'd be spared from the raging anguish he kept inside.

He still loved her though. There was no doubt about that. That was the reason why he was doing this.

Because this… issue, it needed time. Time for him to recover, to adjust, to accept.

Just not _now_.

Not yet.

And most definitely not when she wants to tell him how to deal with it.

Because she didn't understand.

No one really did.

He always had the need to contribute, to be part of something much bigger than himself – the Navy, Division, running it, fighting it, shutting it down. He had to know that he was useful in whatever war he took part in.

But Nikita took that away from him.

He knew that it had to be done though, to save his life.

He also knew that he wasn't supposed to blame her. He _shouldn't_ blame her. She only did what she thought was right to keep him from dying.

But it was just _so_ hard.

Every time he looked at her, he could see what he was, what he could've been. And there was no way he could ever let her know without hurting her.

That by saving him, she doesn't realize what it was costing him.

And this wasn't just about his hand anymore. It was a part of him that can never be replaced even with the most advanced technology. It was the knowledge and disappointment that he can never be the same again. He can never function the same again. A soldier that was injured like him was almost always a soldier put out of commission indefinitely.

He was a… a… _h-handi–_

He didn't even want to think about it.

He will have to cope that he'd be of no use to anyone. Not like he used to. Not to the team, and certainly not to Nikita. He could no longer go out on missions with her as her partner anymore. She'd be watching _his _back, instead of the other way around. He knew she'd be distracted by constantly worrying about his welfare on the field if he did. He was just going to get her hurt in one way or another. Or worse, get her killed.

A surge of self-loath ripped through the ache in his chest, realizing that he wouldn't even be able to protect her properly anymore.

He could never be the same man again for her.

That feeling… That shame…

She didn't understand… It was much worse than death itself.

He was rendered worthless.

And he was going to live with that fact everyday from now on.

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**And we'll stop there for now.**

**I'll post the second part later or tomorrow. ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, and reviews would be lovely too.**

**xx Dani**


	2. Part II: Nikita

**Hey everyone!**

**As promised, here's the second part in Nikita's POV. :]**

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Part II: Nikita

She felt so lost.

Helpless.

It frustrated her that Michael was trying to shut her out.

She expected a bit of that though. Because that was who he was. But she stretched her patience. For him. She knew that he needed space, time to himself, and she gave whatever her sanity could afford. She even tried to be understanding when he'd rather stay in Division than go home, or talk to Birkhoff instead of her.

Even if her mind and heart were in a constant state of worry over him, she endured it. Tempered it. Controlled it.

Just to no avail.

Because knowing him like she did, she knew that he was going to torture himself over what happened. Keep things hidden within until it ate him up inside. And that scared her. Especially during the night. It kept her awake. She'd toss and turn in the half-empty bed she shared with him, trying to keep the worst ideas at bay. Anxiety would bubble inside her, coloring every thought that ran through her mind.

It was just too much.

She was responsible for the torment he was experiencing. She was supposed to help him get through this. If she could help others, why not him?

He wasn't even just any other person. He was Michael. Her fiancé. _Her_ Michael.

She did this to him. She had to help him deal with it, accept it.

Only, she couldn't. He wouldn't let her.

For each day that passed since the incident, she could only watch as he pulled farther and farther away from her. And it wasn't for the lack of effort on her part. Everyday, she tried to reach out in any way that she can, to bring him back, but he just shunned her out. He shot down any attempt she did to show that she cared. That she was sorry that this was happening. That she was there for him.

But he just wouldn't let her in.

It broke her heart, little by little.

But it didn't even occur to her that he would go as far as not telling her what was going on with him.

If Birkhoff didn't inform her that he was going to fit Michael with a bionic hand that day, it probably would've taken longer for her to know that he was experiencing phantom limb pains, or that he had already gone off his painkillers.

That knowledge shocked her more than she ever let on. She never thought that he would keep those important things from her.

But she should have known that he would act that way. He would rather carry the brunt, than let anyone else. He was a martyr like that, expecting too much from his self.

It literally pained her to think that he going through all those things alone. That he was choosing to do it without her help. Why couldn't he see that she could share this burden with him? That she could take a part of his suffering if only he'd let her? That they could get past through this, _together_, like he always said?

And then she found out why.

It wasn't that he was shunning everyone. It was just _her._

He just didn't want _her _help.

Because _she'd helped enough_.

The bitter edge in his voice was not lost to her. It took her breath away. The wall he created around himself cracked in front of her, just enough to let her glimpse at how he really felt inside. The pain and the grief. It also showed what he kept hidden when she was around. It was probably even why he didn't want to stay in the same room with her alone for longer than necessary anymore.

Resentment.

He blamed her.

He'd never be the same again. Because of her.

Nikita felt disgusted with herself. She was angry at herself.

He was suffering because of her.

And he was just the start. Her obsession with taking Amanda down was putting everyone she loved at risk. She couldn't have that. Michael served as her cruel reality check at how fleeting their welfare was, how quickly and devastatingly everything can change. It crushed her that it had to be him. Why not her? She'd rather take it all than let someone else get hurt.

But it was done and over with. There was nothing she could do to change what happened.

Michael was suffering because of what she had done. She had to live with that.

And then the thought creeps up, making her wonder, making her doubt if she made the right decision. Knowing what Michael is going through now, if she had made the right choice. Then she remembers that he was still there, still alive and breathing, and she knows that she did what she had to do to spare his life. Even if he didn't see it like that yet.

She couldn't – no, she _wouldn't _let herself be directly responsible for another loved one's death.

She'd been through that with Daniel. And it all but broke her to pieces. She only survived because she knew that she still had someone to live for. She still had Michael.

So she couldn't even begin to fathom what would happen had he met that same harsh fate.

She knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

She'd be dead without him.

If there was a way, any way that she could just get through to him now… She'd let him know, let him see.

Because he didn't understand, didn't realize why she had no choice but to do what she did.

And that she didn't regret it.

It was because she loved him too much.

Too much that she just couldn't let him die.

And it was shattering her within, not being able to help.

That if she wouldn't get to him soon enough, she was going to lose him.

It was ironic.

She was saving others, even the world. She's done many things, even the almost impossible at times.

But she couldn't save the man she loved.

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**And that's it!**

**I'd love to read your thoughts in the Reviews (even if this was kinda depressing). So leave one, if you can! :D**

**And hopefully some other writers out there can come up with a happy Mikita story that'll feed our little hearts until Michael and Nikita really do get better in the show? Yoo hoo, anyone?**

**So, anyway! This is it for this story. I am always grateful to everyone who took time to read this. And to the most amazing reviewers, you are just awesome. You guys rock. ;)**

**xx Dani**


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